


Steele Piping

by SuzySteele



Category: Remington Steele (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzySteele/pseuds/SuzySteele
Summary: Author’s note – no sex, no ‘shipping. Just speculation on the Holt family background.
Relationships: Laura Holt's family
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

_It is a truth generally acknowledged that a man with a good fortune must be in want of a wife._

\- Jane Austen, _Pride and Prejudice_

It was seven forty-five on a promising spring morning in Connecticut, and Abigail Holt hummed tunelessly to herself as she readied the the dental cubicles at Family Dental for the work day that would shortly begin. She had been with Dr. Carmichael and Family Dental for several years now, ever since the divorce and once the girls were old enough. And then Richard disappeared, and the job that started as ‘pin-money’ to supplement his alimony became a lifesaver that kept body and soul together, as well as put food on the table and a roof over their heads. She'd been fortunate to have had the dental job prior to marriage, and with one daughter finishing college and the other a high school junior, preoccupied with her own activities, the emptying house made her grateful for a job where she was needed. Dr. Carmichael relied on Abigail to keep the place running, and she had an early morning routine that kept the workspace to his satisfaction. So she hummed to herself as she restocked supplies in each of his three exam rooms and refilled the tall glass jars with gauze wads and another with sterile pads. She bustled into the back room and unsealed the pressurized door of the now-cooled tabletop autoclave that she had loaded the night before and removed the thirty packs of neatly wrapped dental tools for today’s patients. Sixteen for Dr. Carmichael and five plus spares for the new dental resident who would begin work today.

Abigail hadn’t seen him yet, but as she moved up and down the corridor between the examination rooms and the front reception, she overheard the murmur of two men’s voices from behind the closed door of Carmichael’s office; they'd already been there when she arrived at seven-thirty. Carmichael’s partner had departed the previous year, and Carmichael hoped the new resident might like the job enough to stay and buy into the partnership. This was hardly a secret; it was how dentists built their partnerships.

As Abigail entered the sunny reception area, she saw that Andi had arrived for her shift at the front desk, and she smiled a greeting as Andi secured her handbag within a file drawer and turned to the charts for today’s patient schedule. Andi had a nice husband and a six-year-old boy who would start school this coming fall, and Abigail wondered how the woman managed.

“Hi Abigail. Have you seen the new recruit?” Andi now asked in hushed tones as she laid the schedule inside the photocopier and pressed the start button.

Abigail shook her head. “Not yet. They were already closeted up when I arrived.” She leaned over the waist-height partition that separated Andi from the patient flow and the waiting room. “He drives an Impala.”

“Hmm. Safe and solid. That’ll be a nice change from Dr. Schultz.”

Dr. Schultz had driven a station wagon and worked at Family Dental for fifteen years until a midlife crisis swapped his Chevy for a Mustang and his wife for their twenty-two-year-old hygienist. Carmichael had let him go and hoped the new resident from dental school would be a more mature replacement.

Behind them, Abigail’s sharp hearing caught the sound of Carmichael’s door opening. She raised an eyebrow. “We’re about to find out.”

They both turned to watch a beaming Carmichael approach them from up the hall, his comforting, rotund figure made stouter by the white dental jacket that strained at the fastened buttonholes across his middle, 'Dr. Randy Carmichael' embroidered over the left pocket. Just behind him followed a taller man, slim and dark and young and, frankly, looking a little nervous. Which immediately appealed to Abigail’s motherly instincts.

Dr. Carmichael turned first to the older woman. Always a gentleman.

“Abigail, let me introduce our newest addition to Family Dental. This is Donald Piper, our new intern. He graduated from U-Conn, did an internship on craniofacial innervation at Yale, and we’re very lucky to have him.”

“Welcome to our happy home, Dr. Piper,” she greeted with a broad smile. I’m Abigail Holt.”

“Mrs. Holt, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

As Dr. Piper extended his right hand, Abigail swiftly glanced at the left and noticed there was no ring on the third finger. She sized him up with a mother’s practiced eye. Donald Piper wasn’t classically handsome and he looked a little thinner than a mother would like. But his dark hair was neat and his features were amiable and his brown eyes were kindly. And his calling her “Mrs. Holt” scored major points for professionalism, given what young people were today. She beamed back. “Dr. Piper, it’s lovely to meet you and welcome.”

He looked a little surprised at that, which puzzled Abigail until he gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I’m not used to being called Dr. Piper yet. I keep turning around expecting to see my father.”

If Abigail had ears, they would have swiveled forwarded. “Your father is a dentist?” she asked quickly.

“Runs in the family, I’m afraid. Father and uncle, back on Long Island. Yours as well?”

“No, alas. My father was in finance. And my ex-husband an accountant. But I found being a hygienist to be an excellent career for a busy woman and mother. So satisfying, keeping all those little children’s teeth healthy.”

“You have children?”

 _Bingo._ She smiled proudly. “Two beautiful daughters. Frances and Laura. Frances lives nearby and studies home economics at U-Conn. Perhaps you ran into her on campus? My younger daughter Laura is still in high school. We’re originally from California and we moved here to be closer to my parents. And your family?” She had run out of breath but thought she sold the family pretty well, all things considered.

“Like I said, mine’s back on Long Island. As for me, I’m just a bachelor. Being a dental student and then an intern doesn’t leave much time beyond studying.”

She clucked and tut-tutted, but was secretly thrilled. Donald Piper seemed like a nice young man. “And no time for family or socializing. We’d be delighted to have you over for a home-cooked meal once you’re settled in.”

“That would be wonderful.” He chuckled a little. “I’m renting a little apartment and I’m not very good in the kitchen beyond fried eggs and a grilled steak. A home-cooked meal sounds wonderful. I’ll hold you to it.”

“And now I must return to getting everything ready and you need to meet the rest of the staff. We have such a happy family here at Family Dental.”

While Dr. Carmichael continued the tour and introductions, Abigail returned to the three stations, checking the stocks of paper aprons and rubber film holders and giving the Formica counters a final spritz of sterilizing alcohol.

Only now there was a tune within the humming that accompanied her work. _I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night…_ It would be nice to see Frances settled. A dentist would provide just the right, secure environment. Marrying Richard Holt had been the greatest mistake in her life. As a mother, the least she could do was ensure that her girls wouldn’t be caught in the same trap. She needed to know their lives would be happy. That they would marry men who would care for each of them far better than what Abigail and Richard had been able to provide.

And once she got Frances squared away, she could tackle the problem of Laura, who was by turns angry, sullen, or frighteningly rational. Maybe having around a nice, stabilizing man like Donald Piper would be a positive influence on her teen-aged daughter?

Her smile widened and, as the first clients arrived for their dental cleanings, her imagination couldn't help but populate the sunshine-filled waiting room with a mental army of grandchildren.

THE END


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discovered that I needed to know how Abigail's dinner invitation worked out. And how will teen Laura react? So...two more chapters!

Later that evening, as she finished tidying her kitchen, Abigail returned to the serious problem of Dr. Piper’s dinner. The foremost question, of course, was not the dinner per se, but the larger objective of how to introduce him to Frances without attracting her elder daughter’s suspicion, a task that required all a mother’s cunning to pull off. There was no point, however, in trying to fooling Laura. Her younger daughter was a miniature J. Edgar Hoover, capable of ferreting out the deepest of family secrets. _Fortunately, not quite all of them,_ Abigail reminded herself. Well, for this dinner, it didn’t really matter. What did matter was that Laura behave herself and not embarrass Frances or their guest. Now seventeen, Laura could be quite a lovely lady when she put her mind to it. Unfortunately, she mostly put her mind to being a sullen teenager who kept to herself. Richard’s sudden disappearance had left Laura bereft, and Abigail’s heart was broken over her daughter’s grief. And yet, having said that, she’d always thought Richard had spoiled his younger daughter a little too much. Fortunately, the therapist had helped, and on those good days when Laura was focused on school and her sports, the time shared by mother and daughter could be quite lovely.

This evening, Laura had disappeared after dinner to study in her room upstairs, and with the dinner wash-up finished, Abigail stood at the kitchen’s Formica counter and perused the family schedule, its events scribbled into the squares of a monthly wall calendar – provided each December by friendly Family Dental - unpinned and laid across the counter’s still damp surface. With Frances up at U-Conn, the blue and black ink jottings held mostly Laura’s activities. There was something happening almost every afternoon or evening. Gymnastics, chess club, science club, piano lessons, choir practice, dance, swimming…Honestly, one would almost think that her daughter made it a point to stay busy and out of the house! Abigail’s pen rolled over the dates. This week…no….no again…Next week…And then…Yes! Next weekend! Frances only returned home from college once or twice a month now, and here was the next visit. She’d promised to come home and cheer Laura on for sectionals in gymnastics. The winners would move on to the State finals, and Laura had been drilling hard on her vaults. Abigail was grateful to Frances for generously offering to come home and support her younger sister. Abigail had tried to develop an interest in Laura’s athletic events, but in truth she found it tedious. These events mostly involved sitting on uncomfortable wooden gymnasium bleachers, making desultory conversation with other parents who were similarly stuck there, and pretending to cheer the other girls on, while waiting for the five minutes out of a tediously long day when Laura would actually compete. Richard, of course, had loved it; he’d been on a first-name basis with most of the parents, and happily cheered on all the girls from the school club. Laura had been crushed when he disappeared, and Abigail knew that she still looked surreptitiously at the gymnasium crowd, hoping to spot him lurking in the shadows.

But of course, she’d never spotted him.

None of them had. It was approaching two years now, and even Abigail had little faith in his return.

She blinked, then pulled out the Kleenex stuffed into the wrist of her blouse to dab at one eye.

No, Richard wasn’t coming back.

And thus Abigail fervently hoped that the nice Dr. Piper might give Frances the stability and security she deserved.

As for Laura? She’d tackle her difficult daughter another time.

She circled Saturday the 26th with her pen. Yes, this would be perfect. The girls would come home and they could all have a nice dinner with Dr. Piper.

And perhaps Life could become a little more normal again.

She drew a notepad forward and began meal planning.

_I wonder if Dr. Piper likes lasagna?_

Abigail had just towel-dried the last pot from her cooking and returned it to its cabinet when she heard the front door open, followed moments later by the excited chatter of her daughters. _The girls are home. Finally._ She hustled from the kitchen into the living room, where Frances had already pulled off her light jacket and was hanging it in the front closet. Laura was practically jumping up and down as if she was still doing her stunts, hands thrust into the pockets of her jersey athletic jacket from the gymnastics club and slightly stretching it around her.

“Laura, don’t stretch your jacket like that. You’ll ruin it.”

“Mother!”

Frances looked a little harried. “I’m sorry we’re late.”

“I was beginning to worry that you’d forgotten about our dinner guest. Dr. Piper will be here in just over an hour.”

“Sorry, Mom,” said Laura. “Bad traffic.”

Frances rolled her eyes. “We’d have gotten home sooner if you hadn’t stayed to celebrate with your teammates in the locker room—”

“My vault got a 9.8! And five of us qualified!”

“—so I finally had to go inside and drag her out.” Abigail didn’t miss her younger daughter’s glare and decided a little mediation was in order. She pulled her younger daughter close for a quick hug around the shoulders.

“Congratulations, dear. You can tell us about it over dinner. Now run upstairs. You’ve just time for a shower. You know how long it takes your hair to dry.”

“Who cares?” Laura muttered. “It’s just hair.” She ran for the stairs, and Abigail winced as her daughter dropped into a precisely timed cartwheel that carried her partway up the carpeted stairs.

“Not in the house!” Abigail called after her, to which she heard an insincere “Sorry!” as Laura disappeared into her bedroom.

Frances had not followed, and instead turned to her mother. “She made State, Mom. But I have to be up at campus that weekend.”

Abigail smiled. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out. But for now, you need to change and get ready for dinner, too.”

“I will. But did you have to have this Dr. Piper over the same day as sectionals?”

Abigail crossed her fingers behind her back. “He’s been busy settling in. Besides, he goes back and forth to Yale. Still studying something.”

“Sounds exciting,” said Frances with an expression that clearly said it wasn’t, and Abigail neatly hid a smile. “I only need a minute to change. Is there anything I can do to help you get ready?”

“Not a thing, dear. I’ve had all day. The salad’s made, the table’s set, and the lasagna goes into the oven in twenty minutes. I’ve already vacuumed and dusted. And there’s cheese and crackers on the coffee table, and some cocktail nuts.”

“Better keep those away from Laura. She’ll spoil her dinner.”

“Probably. I don’t know where she puts it all.” She affectionately patted her older daughter’s cheek. “You just run upstairs and change. Relax and enjoy a nice evening.”

“With some guy who’s a dentist and still studying at Yale? Yippee, mom.”

Frances turned and headed up the stairs at a more sedate pace, leaving Abigail to smile broadly.

When the doorbell rang, Laura thundered down the stairs - dressed in a sweater and slacks, of course, not a skirt - but Abigail already had the situation under control. She made a backhanded shushing gesture and lit a beaming smile (teeth brushed and perfectly white) as she opened the door to reveal a hesitant Donald Piper, standing self-consciously beneath the porch light.

“Mrs. Piper? Hello. I’m not too early, am I?”

“Nonsense. You’re right on time. Please come inside.” She stepped aside to admit her guest. Apart from the first day they’d met, she’d only seen Dr. Piper dressed in a white dental jacket with the stand-up collar and short sleeves. For this occasion, he wore a sport jacket and a light blue shirt with a rather interesting necktie – were those little dancing teeth amidst the psychedelic swirls? – and Abigail thought he looked almost handsome. And definitely potential husband material.

She realized he was holding something in one hand. “I brought a small present,” he was now saying. “Some wine to go with dinner?”

Abigail was nothing if not polite. One did not inform a well-intentioned guest that the host did not keep alcohol in the house because the ex-husband had a drinking problem. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

“It’s a chianti. I thought it would go well with the lasagna.” Now he looked around. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Holt.”

“Thank you, Dr. Piper. We enjoy our cozy nest very much. Please, come inside and let me introduce you to my daughters.” She turned about to see Laura hanging back. “This is my younger daughter, Laura.” To her surprise, her normally exuberant daughter had gone suddenly shy, and actually dropped a half-curtsey. Dr. Piper extended a hand in greeting, and after a moment, Laura accepted the handshake.

“Laura, I’m glad to meet you. Your mother says wonderful things about you.”

“She does?” She cast Abigail a suspicious glance, which her mother pretended not to see.

“And this is my other daughter, Frances.”

Frances had been holding back, backlit in the kitchen doorway, and now came forward, offering a hand. “Dr. Piper. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Please, call me Donald. We’re not at work. And besides, as I told your mother, Dr. Piper makes me think my father’s here,” and Abigail was thrilled that the small witticism made Frances laugh.

Now she made a gesture toward the small but elegant living room. “Please come in and everyone take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Dr. Piper – Donald – would you like something to drink? I have coffee? Or perhaps tea? Or iced tea?”

“Thanks very much. Coffee would be great.”

As the introductions continued, Laura stepped into the background to watch. She spotted her sister’s light blush at Piper’s joke, and her eyes narrowed with suspicion. _Aha! That’s what this is about!_ Her mother could have invited the new dentist for dinner any evening, and instead picked tonight, when Frances would be here. And on a day that was supposed to be Laura’s with the big gymnastics meet. _Trust Mother to undermine me again. God, I can hardly wait to get outta this house._

When Donald looked around the living room, decorated in full-frontal French provincial with Wedgwood-blue accents, and declared that Abigail had a beautiful home, Laura suppressed a smirk. If he thought the decorations were terrific, then the relationship was doomed for failure. She’d seen Frances’ dorm room; it was all beanbag chairs, black-light Stones posters, and green plants.

She took a seat in the big armchair that had been her father’s – it was the one place where she could still imagine his presence, and had become her favorite reading spot – and settled back to listen as the adults made small talk. She knew from experience that if she stayed in the background and just listened, she’d be forgotten. And then she’d hear the cool things she wasn’t meant to hear, and learn things she was still too young to know about. Because forewarned was forearmed, and if she wasn’t careful and escaped this house, then in a few years it would be her turn for Mother’s’ matchmaking hot seat.

_And there’s no way I’m ever gonna be like my mother._


	3. Chapter 3

To the Holt sisters’ mutual astonishment, Dr. Piper turned out to be an easy conversationalist, and the small talk continued as the quartet rose from the living room and transitioned to the Cape Cod’s dining room. While Laura grudgingly helped her mother carry the hot lasagna, toasted garlic bread, and dressed salad from the kitchen to the table, Frances raided the oversized china cabinet that dominated the petite room and placed the seldom-used wine glasses at her place setting, Donald’s, and Mother’s.

Laura nudged her as soon as Mother disappeared to hang up her apron. “Psst. Give me one of those.”

Frances arched an eyebrow. “You’re too young.”

“I am not! I’m seventeen!”

“You’re just a junior. Maybe next year.”

“Oh, come on! It’s not like my first time!”

Donald had been standing to one side, respecting Abigail’s strict admonishment not to help, and to Laura’s astonishment, he now winked at her. “Tough break, kiddo. Though I think it’s a good way to learn responsible drinking.”

“You drank at seventeen, Frances,” added Laura. “I saw you.”

“Shush. Here comes Mom.”

“Give me a glass,” she hissed, and plucked one from her sister’s grasp. To her annoyance, Frances plucked it right back, just as Mother walked in, and so any further attempts were stifled, and Laura had to resign herself to a tall glass of milk, while the adults got to enjoy genuine Italian wine. It was hardly fair.

Conversation flowed readily during the dinner, and as she listened, Laura started to realize that Donald Piper wasn’t just another tedious dentist. He was nice, funny, and a good listener. He was a refreshing change from Mother’s past dinner guests, who all felt a need to fill every empty space in the conversation with his tiresome opinion.

She grinned to herself. _No need to spill the wine. Yet…_

She suspected that Frances was starting to like him, too. A little. At least she wasn’t treating him like a dull old fogey, especially when they discovered a mutual taste in the Stones. Donald and Frances had even attended the same concert a few months back in New Haven. _Dentists like the Stones?_

Now Frances was saying, “Mom said you were still taking classes at Yale?” and Donald laughed. It was a nice laugh.

“No, no. No classes. I’m doing research,” and at her frown, he added, “in a laboratory.”

“You mean like a scientist?”

“Yes, I suppose. It complements my work in the clinic with Dr. Carmichael.”

“What kind of research would that be?” Abigail jumped in, with what Laura suspected was a planted question.

“Well,” and she thought Dr. Piper sounded a little embarrassed, “I’m interested in the relationship between craniofacial innervation and mandibular function—I mean, the communication between your facial nerves and the lower jaw. And how they affect dental function.” At Frances’ blank stare, he added, “Don’t worry. It’s a specialty. It’ll let me expand my future practice.”

“Specialist referrals can be very lucrative,” pronounced Abigail.

“Well, yes. I guess so. But I find the subject very interesting.”

“But when do you have time to do your research?” asked Frances.

“Dr. Carmichael is very generous. I’m with his practice Monday through Thursday, then I drive down to New Haven and spend Friday and Saturday in the lab.”

“Goodness! That doesn’t leave much free time, does it? How much longer are you doing that?”

“Another year. Then I’ll have two published research papers and can take my specialist boards.”

“That’s nice,” said Abigail. “It’s almost like you’ll be graduating together. Because Frances graduates in May.” Laura sighed. Mother was about as subtle as an armed tank. “Now, would anyone be interested in dessert? I have warm apple crumble with vanilla ice cream.”

“That sounds delicious, Mrs. Holt.”

Abigail rose. “Laura, would you help me clear the table? No, you two stay right there. Donald, would you like coffee with it?”

“Only if it’s decaff, please.”

So Laura didn’t get to hear the rest of the conversation, but from the gleam that she spotted in Frances’ eye, she suspected her older sister was calculating the driving distance between Central Connecticut State and Yale.

Laura distributed the plates of apple crumble and ice cream, having dutifully obeyed her mother’s direction to give Piper an extra generous serving. Donald tasted his, and said, “This is really excellent, Mrs. Holt.”

Her mother laughed lightly. “Oh, no. You’re thanking the wrong person. Frances made it, this morning before she left to take Laura to her gymnastics meet. Frances is a very talented cook.”

“She certainly is…Thank you, Laura,” he added as she placed a cup and saucer before him for the coffee. “We’ve talked so much about your sister, Laura. I feel bad about ignoring you. What are you plans?”

“College,” she said promptly.

“I encourage both my girls to attend college,” chimed in Abigail, as she reached over their guests’ shoulder to pour coffee from an elegant pot that matched the china pattern. “I believe it’s very important for a woman to have a career.”

Laura looked up with shock as she set cup and saucer before Frances. “You do?”

“Of course, I do, dear. Every woman should have something to fall back upon. In case she needs it.”

Laura rolled her eyes, then said, sotto voce, to Donald, “That’s Mother’s euphemism for ‘in case her marriage fails’.”

But their guest was either oblivious to the Holt family history or very good at ignoring the obvious. “Any idea what you’d like to study?”

“Not sure yet. Maybe something math-related. I’m a wiz with numbers.”

“That’s the other side of the family,” Abigail explained. “Her father was an accountant.”

Laura couldn’t conceal her frown of dislike as she retook her seat. “Accounting is boring, Mother. I’ve told you that. I’m in diffy-Q right now – that’s differential calculus – and it’s pretty cool.”

Donald’s eyes widened as he looked at her with real admiration, something her mother and sister had never done. “Diffy-Q? And you’re a junior in high school? Geez, I struggled with that in college. Maybe you should be a math major.”

Her cheeks turned unexpectedly warm at the complement. “Thought about it.” She couldn’t believe that they were having a serious conversation about her real interests, instead of what Mother and her friends expected her to do. “Or physics. I like physics, too.”

Donald gestured as he dug his fork into the slab of apple crumble. “I had a roommate who liked math. He went into actuary.”

“What’s that?”

“He crunches statistics for one of the big insurance companies in Manhattan. It pays a lot more money than a poor starting dentist makes.”

“Hmm.” She remembered how tight things had been last year, when Dad disappeared without a trace. “I’ll look into that. Thanks.”

“U-Conn has a really good actuary science program. Then you’d be close to home.”

“Not a chance,” she blurted out, then flushed, only now remembering that their guest had studied there. “I’m applying to UCLA. Berkeley. Cal Tech. Stanford’s my dream.”

“What’s so wrong with Connecticut?” said Frances. “You sure like coming up to campus to visit.”

She almost retorted, _That’s because college guys are way cooler than high school boys._ But then Mother would forbid her from visiting.

Donald said, “Lots of good schools around here. Brown. U-Mass. Amherst. Maybe Yale? Or somewhere in Boston?”

Laura thought about the grey skies of the East Coast and couldn’t suppress a small sigh. “I miss California. I’m going back the first chance I get.”

“That’s right. I forgot you used to live there. Can’t say I blame you.” He sounded almost wistful.

Abigail laughed, a light, almost brittle sound. The sound of disapproval. “Honey, we talked about this. I know your grandparents promised to help. But we can’t afford out-of-state. I’m sure you could get a scholarship to U-Conn. Or Brown. Or possibly Yale. All three sent you an invitation to apply, given your SAT scores. Then you could even live at home; it would save a lot of money.”

The old desire, and the familiar surge of anger, flared within her. Mother was always trying to crush her aspirations. Asking her to play it safe. Stay at home. Don’t be venturesome. Mother’s velvet chains that held her back. Kept her from exploring who Laura Holt was meant to be. _No wonder Dad left._ But it wouldn’t do to get angry over the dinner table. Not when there were guests. And she found herself starting to like this Donald Piper, who so unexpectedly took her dreams seriously.

“I’m going back to California. Dad always said to follow your dreams.”

“Their father was always such a dreamer,” said Abigail to their guest, ignoring her.

Donald didn’t catch the sarcasm. “And what are your dreams, Frances?”

“Babies, babies, babies,” muttered Laura through a mouthful of apple.

Frances either didn’t hear her – or more likely chose to ignore her sister, and gave a light laugh that echoed her mother’s. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not ambitious like my baby sister.” _Yup. She heard_. “I enjoy my all courses. Child psych, cooking and dietetics, economics…You know, they’re all so important in Consumer Sciences.”

“Isn’t that Home Ec?” shot back Laura.

“Frances is a lovely cook,” jumped in Abigail, deliberately turning the conversation away from Laura. “We must have you back. She makes a superb soufflé. Can you eat soufflé, Dr. Piper?”

“I’ve never had it, but it sounds delicious. And pretty fancy.”

Frances waved a hand, and Laura noticed a becoming pink tone to her cheeks. “Oh, there’s nothing to it, really. Just some eggs and Swiss cheese and some diced ham.” She glared at Laura. “And no gymnastics in the house while it’s in the oven.”

Donald looked at her. “You’re a gymnast?” and today’s victory suddenly became stuck in her throat, and a cold wave of disappointment swept through her as she remembered what today’s achievement really meant.

“Yeah... “

“I heard mention you had a meet today.”

“No big deal. Just sectionals.”

“Sectionals?”

“To see who goes to State.”

“Sounds like big deal to me. How’d you do?”

“Um…I got first. In the vault. It’s my thing.”

Now Dr. Piper looked at her with genuine admiration, even more than with diffy-Q. “Wow! You’re going to the State finals? You’re kidding! You all must be so excited!”

She shrugged, unable to swallow the lump of disappointment that choked her, knowing what was to come. “Not really. It’s two weeks from today.”

“Oh, dear,” said Abigail. “That’s the Saturday I promised to take your grandmother into the City for her appointments.”

“And it’s the weekend before finals,” said Frances.

“Like I said. No big deal.” _As if they didn’t know when it was. Or didn’t think I’d qualify._

“But you can’t compete alone!” Donald protested.

“Busy family.” She turned her attention to scraping the last streaks of ice cream onto her fork.

“Where’s your meet?”

“New Haven.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Laura,” he continued. “Let me know what time, and I’ll skip the lab and come over to cheer you on.”

“Oh!” interjected Abigail. “You mustn’t do that! Your work’s far too important.”

“No, it’s not. And truthfully, I’d welcome an opportunity to play a little hooky from lab.” He winked conspiratorially at Laura. “You’re on, kiddo. Just tell me when and where.”

She felt a sudden rush of gratitude for this stranger, who had been transformed into an unexpected ally. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

It was two weeks later. Laura Holt stood at the far end of a long string of gymnastic mats and briefly closed her eyes. Imagined herself in the vaulting maneuver she hoped was now perfected. She rose on her bare, rosined toes. Stretched. Took a breath. Surrounding her was the activity of competition. The blare of tape-recorded music as another gymnast worked through her floor routine. The familiar, vibrating ‘ _bang_!’ from the wooden parallel bars as a competitor swung from one bar to land on the next. The low chatter and occasional applause of the audience in their bleacher seats. The noises began to fade as she concentrated on what would happen next. Imagined performing her vault one last time. Then she rose higher on her toes, pulling her center forward. Took a deep breath. And…Now! She began her sprint, bare feet slapping on the rubberized mats, pumping for intense speed as the vault apparatus rushed toward her…Then she leapt. Slammed both feet down upon the wooden springboard with a sharp _smack_! Flung herself into the air and launched herself at the enormous vaulting horse, diving toward its leather-covered surface and then instantly pushed away from its surface with her rosined hands. Compressed her thin form into a narrow column, arms snapped tight to encircle her torso, and continued the momentum to flip herself right-side up again even as she spun around her long axis…a hundred and eighty degrees…a full three-sixty…five-forty…spotted her upstream starting point and aligned herself with it even as the mat reached up beneath her. Hit its plastic surface with bare feet, knees slightly bent to absorb the impact that shot up to make her legs tingle…

…and immediately knew she’d stuck her landing. She threw open her arms, back arched and her head tossed back, ponytail swinging and a big smile splitting her features. A roar went up in the audience. She turned ninety degrees, still grinning, to acknowledge their accolade. And then back the other way. Then back to the long table where the somber judges sat. Their printed score cards immediately flew up.

Nine-nine…nine-eight…ten…nine-nine…ten...

Joy erupted inside her, and it took all her self-control to not leap into the air, but instead walk calmly back to the bench where her teammates were leaping about in a frenzy. The judges hated emotional displays from a performer. Laura had all her competitor’s scores in her head, and she didn’t need her teammates screaming, “You did it!” to know that she had.

She nailed the best score in the vault. State champion.

And state champions were promising candidates for out-of-state college scholarships.

Above the din, she heard her name being called from the audience. It was the first time in nearly two years that someone had cheered specifically for her.

"Yeaaa, Laura! Woo hoo!!! Yeaaaaa!!!!”

Astonished, she paused, and then eagerly began to search the crowd in the bleachers for the person who was cheering her on. It was a man’s voice. But not her father’s. Her vision suddenly blurred, and she had trouble focusing on the crowd of faces. Blinked hard in an effort to see. And then discovered her champion.

No, not her father.

It was Donald Piper.

And standing beside him was her sister Frances, clutching Donald’s arm as she screamed her name into his ear. And beside her was her mother and grandmother. All four of them were jumping up and down in the narrow bleachers, waving their arms like the demented and shrieking her name.

She caught Donald’s gaze, and to her astonishment he gave her a broad wink. And then she knew who had stage-managed the miracle that had brought her family here today. Not running errands in Manhattan. Not preparing for a final exam.

She grinned back at her unexpected ally. _So help me, Donald Piper, if you don’t propose to my sister, I’ll make her propose myself._

And then their contact was broken as she found herself swallowed by the crush of squealing, shrieking teammates, all pounding her back and wringing her hands and hugging her so hard that she could hardly breathe.

But she didn’t mind. Not at all.

_I found my way forward. Thank you, Donald._

_Thank you for helping us be a family again._

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps some liberties taken here; what we know of Laura's past is contradictory. I've put a five-year age difference between Laura and Frances, and an additional three years between Frances and Donald. I also had the family move to Connecticut post-divorce, to explain Abigail and Frances' presence there.


End file.
